


If I Could Do It All Again

by xikra1648



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bad at summaries, Bad at tagging, Breakup, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Drama, Ended up a multi-shot, Escape, F/M, Family Issues, Heartbreak, Kidnapping, Late season 7 ish, Past Child Abuse, Recovery, Romance, Some characters are only mentioned - Freeform, Some fudging of the timeline, Started as one-shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 02:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17417699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xikra1648/pseuds/xikra1648
Summary: To say your past was complicated would be an understatement.  The story of your life started with the fact that your father - an international criminal - was the caring and supportive parent while your mother - who had a completely clean record - was the neglectful and emotionally abusive parent.  It wasn't exactly that history that landed you in the BAU, but the effects of your past certainly helped.  You were raised to be a fighter, but somewhere along the line...you seemed to have forgot that also meant fighting for yourself.If you could go back, you would do everything different.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Angst!! Yaay!!!
> 
> This is also SOOOOO much longer than I planned. I literally thought of the ending and wanted to write something with that ending but the buildup ended up SO much longer than I planned.
> 
> So, before this was even finished it was like 6,800 words and 13 pages on Word. Thus, for ease of reading, I split it up into parts.

# If I Could Do It All Again

### Part 1

 

Spencer saw this coming.  He knew this was going to be the outcome.

This wasn’t some fictional show or movie where the gorgeous woman falls for the geek.  He was already lucky enough to be such close friends with you.  It was so much more likely that you wouldn’t have taken the time to get to know him outside of work, let alone eventually pick up a few of his hobbies as your own.  Hell, you’d been the one to make the plans to go to a convention in town, even told him you were putting together a costume of your own, but those plans had been cancelled by a case.

A case in which you, as no surprise to the rest of the team, fought off the three brothers killing for the _excitement_ on your own.  The team showed up just in time to watch as you kicked one into the wall and knocked him out, before kicking the last under his chin as he swung at you with a fire poker and you dodged with a practiced backflip.  Honestly, your skills and training were something out of a _movie_.  You’d briefly mentioned that your father was _determined_ to make sure you could protect yourself, a career soldier that had seen the worst, but it was safe to assume there was more to it than that.

If you’d turned him down based on that, he’d maybe feel like there was still some hope, but that wasn’t what happened.

“Spencer…” you sat on the armrest of your couch, Spencer hadn’t been able to say the words when he was closer to you as his nerves would get the better of him, and you sighed and hung your head before you looked back up and continued, “I can’t…it’s already risky enough being this close outside of work.”

That was it.  He nodded, the next week or two was a bit awkward, and then that case in Canada, the Reaper attacking Hotch’s family, and Spencer getting shot threw the two of you back into the swing of things.  Still, even if he knew you wouldn’t return his feelings, he never could have guessed things would lead to… _this._ The two of you were just as close as always, things were working out, and Spencer’s rash of migraines and hallucinations had led him to Maeve – whose contact information you found and gave to him.  Despite the struggles the team was going through, things were going well for _once_ in his life.  He was _happy_.

You were happy for him too, even as your heart was just as broken as it was the second you broke his heart.

It was for the best.

 

****************

 

You kept telling yourself it was for the best, but with the situation you were in you had some regret for tricking Spencer like that.

The team had already mourned one of their own once before.  It was circumstance that led Emily’s death to be faked, a _relief_ that the mourning was for naught, but you still remembered what happened.  You had been there.  You were part of it.  You were just as determined to chase after vengeance as the rest.  This wasn’t…this would be far more dangerous.

Either way, the chances of getting out of this alive were near impossible.  Your only hope at protecting the team was taking this hellish place down with you.

_Fuck._

The team had set up a search party to look for the latest victim, or at least find _some_ clues.  Everything that you’d found just didn’t make any sense.  Profiles were contradicting with each other.  One minute it looked like it was only one person, next it was two or three, then it was back to one…

Now it all made sense.  It wasn’t the first time the team had come up against cult of people brainwashed by a single bastard, but this was something far more complicate and far more militant.  That was evidenced by the fact you’d been outnumbered, outgunned, and _tranquilized._   They wouldn’t have done that last thing if they didn’t have some kind of plan, and based on the fact you were cuffed to a chain suspended to the ceiling you _really_ didn’t want to know what that was.

You kicked your legs and threw your body back and forth to try and swing hard enough that the chain would give out a little jerk.  It took a bit and your wrists had been rubbed raw by the cuffs and you felt a slight trickle of blood at the sides of your wrists.  You’d deal with that later.  What mattered was you’d managed to jerk the chain enough so you could grasp it with your own hands and actually get to work using those gymnastics and acrobatics skills.

You managed to lift yourself and curl your abdomen enough to press your feet against the ceiling of the short room, you suspected you were in a cellar based on the cement floor and stone walls.  You had to use all your strength to get free, but you managed to weaken the plate enough that it couldn’t hold your weight anymore.  The landing onto your back was painful, you let out an anguished cry and groaned as you rolled over onto your stomach and got up.  You heard the door slam open and looked up just in time to block the kick coming towards you with both hands and twisting, sharp and harsh, so you heard the snap of your assailant’s ankle breaking.

You’d worry about separating the victims from the leader later.

Right now they were all going to be after you.

After your assailant fell to the ground, screaming and writing in pain, you crawled over to him and clenched your hands together to slam your fists into the side of his head to knock him out.  It wasn’t elegant, it was far from what you were trained to do, but you weren’t going to die in a modern-day _dungeon._

You’d just pulled the key out of his pocket and put it in your mouth and fiddled enough to get the key into the lock and twist until you har a click and the cuffs fell to the floor just as you heard the click of a gun.  You slowly looked up to see another of the unsubs, or cultists you really weren’t sure _what_ to call them at the moment and you couldn’t really care.

All you knew was you couldn’t burn this place down from a cinderblock basement.

 

****************

 

They hadn’t heard from you for hours, you weren’t answering your cell, there was no sign of you at the hotel.  You were just…

_Gone._

_“I’m tracking the GPS in her cell, but it looks like it’s turned off.  I won’t be able to find her until someone turns it back on.”_   Garcia was in a panic on her end of the line, trying her best to keep focused on her work.  She had background systems running the searches Morgan had requested, but for the last hour her main concern had been trying to find you when they figured out you were _gone._

“Last time anyone heard from her was during the search – “

“The search was in the unsub’s hunting ground,” Spencer cut Emily off immediately, he’d been jittery since you went missing, “It has to be related.”

It didn’t really _have_ to be, but it did for him.  If it wasn’t…there was nothing he could do to find you.  God, what would he do if anything happened to you?  Losing a friend like Emily was bad enough, but losing you could…it could _break_ him.  He could barely _breath_ at the thought.

No…no…worse than that.  He couldn’t _think_.

Was his mind rushing too quickly for him to keep up?  Had it just stopped?

_Fuck_ he couldn’t tell!

It was like that one _desperate_ thought connecting you to the case was all he was capable of.  That desperate need for there to be something he could do to find you, to save you, to just…bring you home.  He didn’t care _how_ you were in his life.  He just _needed_ you in his life.  That was why, even with how awkward and painful it was at first, he tried to keep things as close to normal as possible after his clumsy confession.  He hadn’t even said it for himself, he could have kept it to himself until the end of time.  He just wanted _you_ to know that there would always be someone you could count on, someone that would always be there for you in the future, even if you’d spent your entire childhood alone.

An eidetic memory could be both good and bad, but at this moment it was nothing but a damn _curse._   As Spencer desperately tried to focus, his mind was reeling with what felt like an endless amount of memories.  The first day you met the team, and you introduced yourself with a bad chemistry joke only he and Penelope understood, that proud smile on your plump glossed lips and the mischievous glint in your dark brown eyes.  The way you would curl up in a chair and sleep on the flight back from a long case, and the times he’d carefully move you to the couch, so your back wouldn’t be cramped and sore when you woke up.  Nights he’d been so tired and fell asleep during a movie marathon, waking up with his head in your lap as you continued watching the movie or to the smell of coffee and breakfast as he’d inadvertently spent the entire night.  Your laugh, the way your cheeks would flush if you thought something was particularly funny and it sent you into a seemingly endless fit of giggles, your love of the Muppets, and how you’d dance as you cooked.

Your soft smile as you held Henry and the big grin on your face when JJ told you her son had the cutest crush on you, you adored that little boy just as much as Spencer and Penelope.  The way children would just flock to you without a thought.  You were always willing to try something new, and the way you could get Spencer to push the boundaries of his own comfort zone so _willingly_.  Your contagious giggles, your silly jokes…

Spencer couldn’t imagine a life without it all, and the risk of it was already detrimental to his being.

“ _Reid!”_

The genius jolted out of his thoughts and looked towards Hotch, who had been the one to snap Spencer out of his thoughts.

“I…I don’t know how to find her…”

He was helpless to save you.

 

****************

 

You were exhausted.  You’d been shot at least twice, and that wasn’t counting the bruises and lacerations you’d gotten because you were getting too tired to fight at peak performance.

If your father could see you now, you couldn’t tell if he would be proud of your ability to survive or appalled at the fact that you’d been captured and put in this situation in the first place.

_What the hell were you doing?_

Your father was a _criminal_.

He was a dangerous criminal.  He went from a CIA field agent to a bodyguard for the worlds most dangerous international criminals.  Just because he trained you, pulled you away from a mother that was emotionally abusive when she wasn’t outright _negligent_ , didn’t mean you could be thinking of him like that.  You were a federal agent.  You had fought and arrested men like your father.

You couldn’t afford to keep thinking like that _at all_.

You still had to live long enough to set off that fire.

You weren’t certain you’d make it out in time in your state, to be entirely honest.  It had been a nonstop gauntlet and you were still dazed from the tranquilizer when you started this crazed plan.

You had been feeling bad about fighting your way out when it all started, but you had yet to find a single woman, child, or a man young or mentally challenged enough to actually think these kinds of mass murders were alright.  Worse off, these weren’t religious or cult killings.  These were just selfish men trying to get over the fact there were women stronger and better than them.  Every damn one of them had come at you with a plan to kill you outright, and every single one you’d come across was left dead as a result.

You winced as you braced yourself against the wall, picking yourself up after you’d ripped up your flannel shirt and used it as a bandage to quell the bleeding long enough.  Escape wasn’t an option anymore.  There were too many of them, and you were too wounded.  You didn’t want to just _give up_ , if you had an opening you’d try and take it, but…

You’d always been a realist.  Even if you did make it out, you knew where the investigation stood before you’d been jumped.  They had no idea that the man in charge of this hell was a man that was rumored to have left town when he lost the mayoral election to a woman a few years ago.  From what you could tell, nobody had even _thought_ of him in years and you were in the middle of nowhere without a radio or a phone.  In your condition, there was no way you’d be able to walk back to town.

There had to be a way you could fight back, bring the rest of the team to this luxury cabin in the middle of fucking nowhere and tell them that these were the men responsible for it all.

If you were going down, you were taking them with you.

Like your father always told you, _‘If you get knocked down, get the hell back up.  Go down a savage if you have to.  It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you get your ass back up and down **fighting.** ’_

 

****************

 

The entire team had been furiously trying to narrow down just where the unsub lived, the geographic profile was the most reliable thing they had since every other profile put together had been thrown out the window.  If only you could have left some clue, or one of the captives had tried to reach out to…

Reid was fumbling with his phone to call Garcia as the others tried to figure out just where to _start_ looking.

“Garcia!  Can you find any records of buildings outside the perimeter of the city?”  He didn’t even wait for Garcia to finish her greeting, cutting in like that half second would make the difference.

_“Looking…and…I got 20 buildings all in different directions.”_

“The other victims were kept in a cellar or basement, so eliminate anything without an unfinished basement but old enough that it might not have been built with a phone line.”

“No phone line?”’  Morgan wasn’t questioning Reid’s logic as much as he was asking what the genius was thinking.  To be fair, everyone else was wondering the same thing.  Reid had been sitting there silently and staring at the map he’d been using to narrow down the unsub’s area of activity, as if he was just _lost_ , before he jumped up and started off on a train of thought without bothering to fill anyone else in.

“Twenty women over five years and _none_ of them tried to escape or reach out?  When every one of them were known for being strong-willed and ambitious.  Some of them were even first responders and vets, most of them had wounds consistent with a struggle, and _none_ of them managed to even call 911,” Spencer explained incredulously, putting the pieces together, “We haven’t even heard anything from [Y/N] by now, that _has_ to be why.”

_“I got two on the twenty miles east, one of them was renovated when it was bought last year and the other one has been a vacation home for a Charles McKinnie since his mother ‘committed suicide.’”_

“That’s gotta be it,” Prentiss was already grabbing her jacket and heading out of the conference room set aside for the team to use.

“Dave and I will stay here and get the SWAT team, the rest of you get going and bring [Y/N] home,” Hotch laid out the plan as everyone else headed out of the local precinct at a full dash.  You’d been missing for an entire day by then.  Even if the pattern was to keep the victim alive for three days, there was no way you weren’t fighting to the death.  There was no telling what they’d be walking in on.

 

****************

 

You had no idea where you where, what time it was, and your grasp on how long you’d been missing was poor at best.  All you knew was you tripped and fell down the stairs, clenching your eyes shut as you crashed onto the ground below.  Your lower half had landed on the dirt walkway leading to the front door, but your head and back were lying on the soft grass as your dazed and exhausted gaze stared up at the night sky.

The sky and stars were so pretty outside the city…you wished you had taken more time to admire it when you had the chance…

You were out.  You were dying on your own terms.  You had a beautiful view of the stars.

You felt a tear slip from your eye as now bittersweet memories of the last few years replayed in your mind.  The dinner at Rossi’s after Emily came home, and the old man pretending he wasn’t looking after all of you like he would his own kids.  Going drinking with the girls the night before the four of you had to get up early to cheer Hotch on during a triathlon.  Going to the shelter with Emily to pick out your cat and hers.  Holidays at JJ and Will’s at their insistence after finding out you had nowhere else to go.  Teasing Morgan as the two of you sparred in the gym and you flipped out of the way as you pleased just for the hell of it.  Game nights with Garcia as you accused each other of cheating at Mario Kart.  That poorly hidden smirk when a – particularly lewd, perverse, and sexist – witness started talking about the ‘things he could make you do,’ so you quickly jabbed him in the throat, not hard enough to cause any real damage but certainly enough to knock the wind out of him and cut him off mid-sentence.

Then there was Spencer.  He’d blame himself for this, but he’d move on.  He’d already found someone else to love, and he had moved on from what you all thought was Emily’s demise.  The time you spent together, dinner and movie nights, lunch breaks, those hellish few days in Vegas chasing down memories that were haunting his dreams.  Your failed attempts at teaching him to cook, and leaving out the detail that your father taught you so you knew how to hide and detect poison in food.  Spencer desperately trying to figure out just why your dumb cat wouldn’t _leave him alone_.  Your – admittedly pleasant – surprise when he asked you to dance at JJ and Will’s wedding that he actually could dance.  His questions, turned to teasing, at the fact that you hated horror movies but still couldn’t stop watching them anyway.  Getting snowed in at his apartment on New Year’s and that drunken – ill advised – kiss at midnight before the two of you passed out.

You felt…lighter?  Like someone was lifting you up, a muffled voice drawing closer.  You found the energy to open your eyes once again, one last view of the world.

Even through your exhaustion, as everything faded, you couldn’t help yourself.

_You smiled._

 

****************

 

You smiled.

_You smiled._

As he held you, Spencer begged you to open your eyes, and you did.  Then you _smiled._

Your pulse was faint and growing fainter by the time the paramedics arrived to take you away.  You were pale, your once blue flannel had been ripped up into bandages and turned a dark violet – more like _black_ – with blood from your wounds.  Your white tank-top was covered din grime and stains, revealing shallow cuts and bruises you hadn’t bothered to cover.  Your breathing was shallow.  Spencer’s own clothes and his FBI vest were stained with your blood.

The others met him in the private waiting room he’d been led to, hospital policy was to keep law enforcement waiting on an injured officer or agent separated from civilians.  Officers waiting on injured coworkers made people nervous, and that was especially true in this case.

JJ rushed forward and pulled Spencer into a hug that he returned, still in a daze, as he tried to figure out just what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

“Did they say anything?” Prentiss asked gently, the anxiety in the room already growing heavier and heavier with each passing moment.

Spencer just shook his head, his mind still somewhere else as he answered by reflex, “They just…took her…”

You looked so weak, like you were so close to just dying in his arms.

But you _smiled._

Nobody does that if they’re about to die.

You’d be fine.  He could…he’d see you again.  You’d need some time to recover, but he’d be right there with you just like you were for him.  He’d…he’d make it all right.  Throughout the day that one memory had been playing through his head, wondering if telling you he loved you was a mistake or not, and the exact words of your response finally hit him like a ton of bricks.

_“I can’t…it’s already risky enough being this close outside of work.”_

You didn’t say what made it dangerous.  You didn’t say anything about your own feelings.  He should have asked what you mean.  He should have pushed just a little.  He should have…he didn’t even know.  He couldn’t calculate what he should have done to make sure you weren’t there, to make sure you weren’t in that operation room.

Before he even thought, Spencer pulled his ringing phone out of his pocket and turned it off without looking at the caller ID.  He just…he couldn’t deal with that…not when you were…

_Fuck_

 

****************

 

You hadn’t…you hadn’t been here in years…over a decade…

It was your room.

Your _old_ room.

You moved around with your father a lot, but there was still that one house on that idyllic street, in that scenic neighborhood, in a cliché small town, in Maine.  It had been such a massive change to the apartment in LA where you lived with your mother, your bedroom being the living room your mother would traverse whenever she came home drunk in the middle of the night.  You still remembered forging deposit slips when the checks from your father came, then running to the grocery store to try and get some food with enough to pay the rent before your mother spent it all on alcohol.  Until your father made his way to LA and visited on a whim, he was nothing more than a name on a bank account.  You were only nine when he came and saw the neglect and abuse you had adapted to live with.  You had been in shock when he sat there and…gave a damn.  It took a bit to convince you to go with him, about a year, but he pulled it off.

You looked around your old bedroom, the blue walls and the plush dark green carpet welcoming you.  The full-sized bed back against the far wall and perfectly situated for the best view of the large window.  The band posters, the polaroid photos of friends and places you’ve been, postcards from your dad when he couldn’t take you with him, even postcards from people he worked with all decorated the walls.  Hours of playing video games when you weren’t completing whatever assignments were necessary to keep up with your classes at school.  Too many books for the bookshelf, leading to piles of them on the floor.  Nobody would guess you had an armory you were trained to use hidden under your bed, in your closet, and under the clothes in your dresser.

You left your room, making your way through the halls and to the basement.  It had been retrofitted to an indoor gym and the walls insulated to keep sound from getting out.  There was the punching bag, targets to practice throwing knives, mats set out to spar or practice the gymnastics or acrobatics your father taught you.  He’d also take you out into the woods, especially during hunting season, and teach you firearms.  The last time you’d been in the basement was years ago, you’d been a newbie agent tracking down an assassin.

That assassin was your father.  You knew that.

As you got older, as much as you loved your father, you knew what he was doing was wrong.  You knew the people he worked for were bad.  You were never going to stop being that girl that jumped between the bully and the victim, even if you were outnumbered.  Your father was proud of that…even if it meant you’d be the one to arrest him when he returned to the US.

The information he had, the information Interpol wanted, was the only reason your father hadn’t received the death penalty.

“Dad…” you froze when you saw him there, wrapping his hands like he was planning on hitting the punching bag for a bit.  You winced when you said that word, like you were physically reminding yourself you couldn’t call him that anymore.  You’d arrested him, handed him over to Interpol…you hadn’t even spoken to him since then.

“I was so proud of you when you were recruited to the FBI, made your own life, and now you’re just throwing it all away like a damn coward.”  He didn’t even look up from wrapping his hands.  He looked like he did when you were a teenager.  Tall, strong, dark brown hair in a buzz cut, an old Black Sabbath t-shirt and jeans.

“ _Excuse me?”_   Your trepidation immediately shifted to anger, “I fought like hell to get out of there.  I knew I was gonna die, I decided it would be on my – “

“You knew the _odds!”_ your father snapped back up at you, he had always hated using that tone with you but right now he didn’t seem to be hesitating this time as he made his way closer to you, “You knew the odds and decided it wasn’t worth the fight.  You were so scared you’d lose, you decided to throw in the towel.  You’ve been doing that for _years_.”

“I’ve got a lot of people after me because I _betrayed_ you!” you felt angry tears burning in your eyes as you stood firm, “You’re the one that taught me to fight _smart._ ”

“ _That doesn’t excuse giving up like a lazy little punk!”_

You threw an angry punch, causing your father to stumble back as he wiped off the blood trickling from his nose before he looked back up at you and taunted, “A bloody nose?  That’s the best you can do?  I see why you joined the BAU.  You never would have made it into Tactical Operations with that weak arm.”

Tactical Operations was what you were first recruited for.  Like the BAU it was a section of the Critical Incident Response Group, but – as evidenced by the name – specialized in tactical responses and was made up of the Hostage Rescue Team, FBI SWAT team, and the Crisis Negotiation Unit.  You’d specifically had your eyes on SWAT, but something about profiling just…stuck with you.  It was what _you_ wanted to do.  It was something you could do.  Something you’d be _good_ at even without everything your father taught you.

“Being a profiler doesn’t mean I can’t kick your old ass.”

“Wanna prove it?  _Fight.”_

_If you get knocked down, get the hell back up.  Go down a savage if you have to.  It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you get your ass back up and down **fighting**_


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat looks wildly different from Purrlock, but he's just as much of an attention whore.
> 
> There were other things I was planning on putting in the notes section, but I can't remember them now...

# If I Could Do It All Again

### Part 2

 

“[Y/N] [L/N]?”  The surgeon stepped into the waiting room, still in his scrubs with his surgical cap and his mask still hanging around his neck.  He wasn’t sure just how many people were waiting for you, and thought it was best to ask.  It wasn’t common for the entire waiting room to be full, especially for just _one_ person.

“There was a lot of damage to be repaired, and we had to treat her blood loss before she was stable enough to even consider surgery – “

JJ couldn’t much say she cared about that.  Yes, you were in bad shape.  Yes, it would take a minor miracle.  That _didn’t matter._   She just didn’t have the patience to deal with the doctor listing off everything he had to do to save you, listing off all the phenomenal things he had to do and patting himself on the back.

“How is she?” JJ cut in first, though the question was the only thing running through everyone else’s mind.

“She’s currently stable in the ICU.  We’re keeping her in a medically induced coma for a day or two to let her rest, but it looks like she’ll be okay,” the doctor reported, watching the relief pour over everyone as the stress and anxiety left their bodies, “You’ll be able to visit her tomorrow, but it’ll be about a week before I’ll feel comfortable transferring her to another hospital.”

 “Thank you, doctor.”  Hotch nodded in response, keeping his poise and allowing the others to react.  Morgan immediately dug into his pocket to grab his phone and call Garcia, no doubt she was still in her office waiting desperately for news – hoping for good news.  The doctor stopped as he took his leave, turning to admit, “I have to say…I’ve never put much stock in the idea that people have the ability to fight for their life after losing consciousness before Agent [L/N], but I guess I’ve just never met a fighter like her before.”

“Trust me, Doctor,” Rossi retorted with a sardonic tone and a proud smirk, “You have _no_ idea.”

The surgeon took his own leave, his own spirits seemingly lifted at this discovery that a person’s spirit really could make a difference no matter how hopeless things seemed, and that no fight was too hopeless.

“We can’t see [L/N] now, so let’s go back to the hotel and get some rest,” Hotch turned to the rest of the team, everyone feeling exhausted as a direct result of the last two days.  You were about a six to seven-hour flight away from home, but they could work out who would stay in town with you tomorrow.  Nobody was going to be leaving until you were _awake_ though.  Strauss wasn’t going to like that, but Hotch couldn’t say he cared.

You were part of the team.  You were family.

It was going to be bad enough leaving after you woke up.  As morbid as it was, the fact that your blood was staining Reid’s clothes was a small miracle.  It would be impossible to get him to leave otherwise.

The next morning, as _most_ of the team gathered for a quick breakfast back at the hotel, Hotch wasn’t _at all_ surprised to learn Reid had already made his way to the hospital.

 

****************

 

Spencer had turned his phone back on to set an alarm and saw just how many calls from Maeve he’d missed.  He knew he had to call her back, had to explain things, had to…he honestly wasn’t sure yet.  He felt _horrible_ , this was something he never thought he’d do, but he _had_ to.  It didn’t help that he felt like an absolute _idiot_ as well.  Part of him always knew he wasn’t over you, JJ had _told_ him that and he was stupid enough to argue, but he ignored both himself and his best friend in a wildly desperate attempt to _prove_ to himself that he had moved on from wishing for something that was just so hopeless.

He’d call back the next day, after you’d woken up.  After his nerves were calmed.  He knew you were going to survive.  You’d already passed the worst of it, and the doctor was right.  You were a fighter through-and-through.  You weren’t going to stop fighting just because the hard part was over.  You’d be okay.

He just…needed to make sure.  Needed to see you open your eyes and speak to him before he could make any calm decisions.

After a shower he got as much sleep as he could, before getting dressed and making his way into your hospital room just after six in the morning.  You weren’t intubated, a _very_ good sign considering you’d taken at least one shot to the chest, and your skin had regained it’s softer tanned glow from the sickly pale it was when he’d last seen you.  It looked like one of the nurses had even taken the time to wash your long chocolate brown hair for you as it had been matted with dirt the day before, but had regained it’s soft volume once again.  Just after shift change, the day nurse came in to check on you and told Spencer it would still be a bit before you woke up.  Her best guess was you’d be awake at about midday, but that didn’t mean Spencer was going to go anywhere until you did.  With his phone on silent and a chair pulled to your bedside, he gently held your hand and quietly spoke to you.

It wasn’t anything in particular, mostly just ramblings on his part.  It started with a recalling of how the two of you met during a briefing of the team’s next case, a case in Portland with a psychiatrist killing his patients with their worst fears, and that – looking back – he was smitten the second you made that _really_ bad chemistry joke.  It wasn’t bad because it was scientifically incorrect.  It was just… _bad._   Embarrassing ‘dad joke’ bad.  His excitement, a few weeks later, when he saw you were putting up a few decorations at your desk for Halloween and – after Morgan groaned and asked why you had to do that – passionately argued that Halloween was the best holiday and the only one that didn’t have some kind of sinister background or historical lie as its origin.  The entire point was just to wear a mask because the demon Samhain would be free for that one night, and he couldn’t see you if you wore a mask, meaning – historically, it was more concerning when someone _wasn’t_ wearing a mask.  His – pleasant – surprise that you’d stayed behind in Vegas to help him figure out the reoccurring dreams he’d been having despite knowing him for such a short time.  He was recalling a case from shortly after that, an unsub that picked his victims because their features matched those defined in the _Golden Ratio_ – which was also why you’d all agreed they were almost unrealistically beautiful – and that he’d just _barely_ stopped himself from pointing out that the unsub’s pause at seeing you likely had more to do with the fact your own features matched that same ratio, when the rest of the team filtered in.

“How is she?” Hotch asked the question on everyone’s mind, taking the lead, as they all either pulled chairs up to your bed or found a place to stand.  Morgan wasn’t there, but after hanging up with Garcia after the doctor gave them the good news he’d announced that the technical analyst was getting on the next available flight and would be there sometime the next morning, making it safe to assume Morgan was picking Garcia up from the airport.

“Good, she’s recovering better than they’d expected and the nurse said she should wake up this afternoon.”  Spencer’s spirits had lifted quite a bit when he heard the nurse’s report on your health.  It was nearing noon when Morgan and Garcia made it to the hospital, her plane met a delay which still frustrated her quite a bit _entirely_ due to the circumstances, but it’s not like you were going to wake up because an alarm clock went off.  After hearing you were going to be laid up in that same hospital for a bit, Garcia had grabbed a few things to decorate your hospital room and, after kissing your forehead in a gentle greeting, immediately set to work placing small plushes, toys, and a flower arrangement she’d ordered from a local shop before even boarding the plane.

It was a little after two when you let out a quiet groan and, with a voice a bit rough from sleep, spoke up before you even opened your eyes.

“I smell coffee.”

“Rossi got it from the Starbucks in the lobby,” Garcia giggled as she put down her caramel macchiato, all coffee courtesy of Rossi who insisted on acting like it was just easier that way when he really just couldn’t stop treating all of you like you’re his kids.  By then your eyes were open, tired but open, and you started shifting around to sit up, wincing before anyone caught on to what you were doing.  Everyone was suddenly hovering over you the second you winced, all seven of them surrounding your bed and causing you to both freeze and try to back away just a bit.

“The injured still need their personal space, guys,” you joked lightly as you requested they back up a bit and give you some air, “I just need one of you to help me sit up.”

You weren’t sitting up completely, mostly leaning back on the raised head of your hospital bed, but you were still doing far better than expected.  You’d been talking with everyone for over an hour, snapping at Prentiss for making you laugh, before Spencer felt at ease enough to make the inevitable – and already difficult – phone call.  He stepped out as Morgan left to ask if you could have some food before the team decided to eat with you at the hospital or eat dinner elsewhere to keep from torturing you.

“Looks like you’re gonna make a pretty big call,” Morgan brought up as the two of them walked through the halls, causing Spencer to turn and face the older agent as they stopped to have a _real_ conversation.  He wasn’t going to bother asking how Morgan knew, even with the rule against profiling each other there was just a point where reading each other became instinct.

“I just…I feel like an _idiot._   I know I have to do this but…”  Spencer’s shoulders slumped as he sighed, silently hoping Morgan had some words of advice or…something.  Anything, really.

“Look, kid, I don’t know why things haven’t worked out so far and it’s not my business, but you’re in deep and so is [Y/N].  It’s obvious to _everyone._   If you keep putting it off and pretending you’re _just friends_ , it’s always going to come back to this.  You gotta face it, _now_ , or the two of you are just gonna keep getting hurt and dragging more people down with you.”  Morgan laid down the line, the facts that would push Spencer to act, “And if you talked about [Y/N] like you always do, I’m willing to bet she’s seen this coming a mile away.”

Yeah.

That was the _worst_ part.

 

****************

 

“The doctor said you’re not gonna be released for another week at least, so Hotch is authorizing some vacation time for one of us to stay here,” Prentiss filled you in on the state of things now that things had calmed down and everyone felt comfortable enough that you were going to be just fine.  Hotch had stepped out to give Strauss an update, leaving you with the girls and Rossi.

“Yeah, I think we all know that’s gonna be Reid,” Rossi retorted from his seat by your bead, having moved swiped it just after Spencer stepped out for a bit.

“Makes sense,” you agreed with a tired nod, “He’d be able to take a day or two and visit his mom, it’s like a four or five hour drive from here.”

“Oh, honey, that is _so_ not why.”  Garcia couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at how clueless you insisted on acting, like the short distance between LA and Vegas was the reason Reid would be staying with you until you were allowed to go back home.  It was…sweet in a way.  At least, it was in her head.  The two of you were too scared of the risk of losing each other that you just never took the chance.  Though, things were getting a bit ridiculous.  Sure, it was a great plot for a tv show or movie, but in real life it grew a bit irritating after a while.

“Guys, we’ve already been over this – “

“We’ve _never_ talked about this,” Prentiss cut you off, a bit fed up with the fact that they’d all agreed to never bring it up.  It was a delicate subject and it seemed best to wait and see, but now it was just…that wasn’t an option anymore.  Not if Reid’s reaction to you going _missing_ was any indication, and that wasn’t counting his frozen gaze into space the entire time they were waiting for you to get out of surgery.

“Not ‘us in the room’ we.  ‘Spencer and I’ we,” you corrected immediately, firmly trying to explain were things stood and why they wouldn’t – _shouldn’t_ – change, “We talked about it, and it’s just…not a good idea.  With my family history, someone could come after me, or use people I care about against me.  Things are already dangerous enough – “

“Bullshit, what’s really scaring you?” JJ wasn’t buying that.  She knew your family history, an unfortunate side effect of her tenure at the Pentagon, and it was her firm belief that if someone was going to come after you, they would have _done_ it by now.  There was another reason.

“I don’t ‘do’ relationships, not real ones, and I never have.  It’s safer that way, and frankly I don’t want to risk losing him as a friend and fucking up the team dynamic all in one fell swoop,” you insisted, keeping your gaze towards JJ as she stared you down, neither of you being one to step down from a fight, and stressed your position by adding, “It would break _both_ of us.”

“That’s a reason to go for it, not run away.”

“Yeah, okay, _Agent three divorces.”_

That was a cheap shot.  An accurate one, and a good point, but Rossi wasn’t about to let you get away with it, or your sarcastic tone, as your expression just _dared_ him to come up with a better argument.  Much to your displeasure, _he did._

“Alright, fine, I don’t have the best history, but that just proves my point.  Only _once_ have I loved someone enough to _happily_ sacrifice anything for her happiness, and to this day my biggest regret is letting her get away because I was too focused on my damn career,” he lectured like a frustrated father trying to teach a rebellious teen a lesson, “I’m not letting you get away with making the same damn mistake.  I’ll tell Reid _myself_ if I have to, but I’m getting sick of the two of you dancing around this.”

“At least let me wait until I don’t have a constant morphine drip.  I’m pretty sure I saw a clown walking by the room, like, 20 minutes ago.”  It was a desperate plea for time, but upon seeing your continued exhaustion and morphine-caused glaze over your eyes slightly accentuated by the healing bruise on your cheekbone, it wasn’t hard to agree.  Honestly, it wouldn’t be a surprise to find out the only reason you were awake at all was because you’d gotten hungry.

“Sure thing, sweetie,” Garcia promised softly, speaking up after growing silent while you bickered with the others.  She hated that, hated when any members of the team were arguing over anything, and she wanted to step in and give you that leeway your health desperately needed.  She knew the others wouldn’t argue that, any one of them would have given that to you, but she just needed to make sure you had it.

“Reid has the most vacation days, he’ll be staying until you can go back to D.C.,” Hotch announced as he and Morgan stepped back into your hospital room, Morgan holding a few takeout menus a nurse had given him and Hotch returning from his call with Strauss.  She was _not_ happy with leaving _two_ members in California, you were an adult and you could deal with everything yourself, but Hotch was insistent and more than willing to die on that hill entirely because the well-being of a member of _his_ team was on the line.  He knew Reid was going to be staying no matter what the decision was, the fact he’d convinced Strauss to look at it like an impromptu vacation was a convenient excuse.

The second he said that, though, he immediately noticed the dry looks he was getting in response.

“You know, Hotch, I’ve never been high enough on morphine to tell you this before,” you opened, you’d been a bit loopy since you woke up but you were still conscious enough to stick with the rest of the team, “But, sometimes your timing can be absolute shit and I’m about 80% sure you do that on purpose to lighten the mood.”

“Fucking hell,” Rossi muttered as he furrowed his brow and rubbed at his forehead, chuckling himself while the others – save for Hotch who was trying _really_ hard to keep his own composure – were thrown into fits of laughter at your accusation.  You had absolutely _no_ proof, but now that you’d pointed it out there would be _no_ forgetting that for _anybody._

It didn’t help that you could – very possibly – be _right._

 

****************

 

Sometimes, being right really bit Spencer in the ass.

This was one of those times.

He’d been right.  Breaking up with Maeve, especially explaining _why_ , was just as _awful_ as he’d expected, and it was only made worse by the fact she _wasn’t_ surprised.  She was heartbroken, there was no missing that, but she fully admitted that part of her just _knew_ it would happen.  So, now it wasn’t just you and he caught in this hell, but he’d dragged an innocent bystander into it too.  Any mutual understanding, or personal acknowledgement that he needed to wait until you were at _least_ well enough to go home, both served as solace and something to make things worse.

As he made his way back into the hospital and into the elevator towards the floor the ICU was located on, there was one _very_ clear thought running through his mind.

_Way to fucking go, Dr. Reid, you’re the world’s smartest idiot._

The sound of laughter coming from your hospital room lightened his spirits, especially when he saw the light blush dusting your cheeks from laughing so much.  You had a takeout menu in hand, looked like they were eating with you before everyone else took off.  Spencer wasn’t about to leave California without you, he’d already resigned himself to that, and considering his talk with Morgan he wasn’t surprised everyone else knew that too.  Delivery to the hospital would be a nightmare, so Rossi left to pick it up – after once again deciding to pay without any discussion with anyone else – and the team’s early dinner was spent together with smiles, laughter, and _relief_ that you were all going to be okay.  There were longer goodbyes from the others as they prepared to return to D.C., followed by Spencer’s promise to return the next morning now that he’d be able to get some _real_ sleep that night, but you were struggling to stay awake and already falling asleep as they left your room.

You were still comfortably asleep when Spencer returned the next morning.  He’d just about finished his book when you started to wake up, and he made a mental note to stop by a bookstore on his way back to the hotel.  The nurses would come in to check on you regularly, and your surgeon had come in to check on your progress before handing your case over to one of the doctors overlooking the ICU.  By the end of the day you were already growing antsy and _determined_ to get up from your bed.  Spencer tried to argue you down, he’d even tried to get the nurse to help, but you just stared them down, you’d managed to sit up at the edge of your bed on your own, and replied, “You can either help, or get the hell out of my way.”

“And you call _me_ stubborn,” he snapped as he returned to your side to help you up.  There was _no_ arguing with you in this state, and it took a moment for the nurse to rush over to your other side.  It was a short trek to the bathroom, but it was a victory nonetheless.  You weren’t expected to be strong enough to stand for another day, but those expectations didn’t account for your steely determination and raw willpower.  It wasn’t much longer until you were moved from ICU to a room in a less intensive ward of the hospital.  Your doctor wasn’t about to let you go before you’d had a week to recover, but with your progress he felt comfortable releasing you into the outpatient care of a doctor in D.C. after _extensively_ explaining you weren’t cleared for field duty until – _at least –_ the end of the month.  You didn’t like it, but you listened.  You _refused_ to be pushed around in a wheelchair, but you agreed that field duty wasn’t a good idea for a while.

“Hey, thanks for staying with me in Cali,” you smiled as you stood in the doorway of your apartment and turned to face Spencer, expecting him to go home himself.

“I’m not leaving until you’re back in bed resting.”  He stood firm, his mood having lightened over the last few days, and it was easy to tell with this teasing smile and the spark that had returned to his hazel eyes.  You couldn’t help but smile yourself, feigning to protest as you stepped aside to let your friend in as you pretended to argue.

“I swear, I’m taking a shower, feeding my cat, then taking my pills and going to bed.”

“Too many steps.  I’ll feed Purrlock,” Spencer was honestly a bit proud he didn’t cringe at the goofy name you’d given your cat, you were _so_ proud of that horrible pun, and continued, “You just focus on getting ready for bed.”

“You do know you’re not _that_ kind of doctor, right?  You and your _second opinions_ seem to forget that a lot,” you teased, but didn’t argue as Spencer was already pulling the cat food out of the cupboard.  Garcia had been taking care of Purrlock for the last few days, not that it really mattered to your orange and black patchwork tabby.  He was, as you reminded him when he was being particularly vocal or annoying, a whore.  He was neutered, but he’d still whore himself out to any passing human for pets, chin scritches, and tummy rubs.  He’d even flip over his food bowl and whine just for the attention, and unlike you literally everyone else had not grown immune to the little asshole.  After getting out of the shower and changing for bed, you made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and weren’t _at all_ surprised to see your cat happily lying on his back as Spencer spoiled the little fuzzball.

“Furry little whore I almost died and he just keeps on whoring himself off to anyone with a hand and a pulse,” you grumbled, far more amused than irritated, as you grabbed a glass and filled it with tap water and caught the familiar jingle of the bell on Purrlock’s collar as he got up and trotted over to you, “Oh, _now_ you’re concerned.”

“Cats can actually get really attached to their owners, or humans they consider family.  It’s not uncommon for cats to get separation anxiety.  They can also detect sickness or changes in mood, behavior or daily routine,” Spencer turned to look over the back of your couch to share some facts about cats, yours in particular, and felt at ease when you looked up at him with a gentle look of amusement, “It won’t be too long before he notices you’re injured and becomes clingy.”

“And because you and Penelope are over here all the time, the two of you have been adopted into his family so he gets clingy when you stop by,” you reasoned before looking down at the cat rubbing against your leg and, teasingly, accused, “So, you’re a _clingy_ whore.”

In the calm of being back in D.C., knowing you were going to be just fine and – despite your nature – wouldn’t push yourself to do something you really couldn’t do, Spencer was finally calming down.  He still chuckled at your lighthearted interactions with your cat, but there was no missing the exhaustion falling over him.

“You should get going before it’s too late to call Maeve,” you reminded, kindly, but your words had an unintended strike.  Now that he was looking, watching as you prepared to retreat into your bedroom, he saw the slight hesitation, an attempt to protect yourself from emotional pain.

“Actually…we broke up…”  The fact that it happened, that it _had_ to happen, was still fresh.  He was growing more comfortable with it, but the…shame at his own stupidity was still there.

“Oh my god,” your brow furrowed and you made your way over to the couch and sat by him, placing your glass of water onto the coffee table, “Things were going well, what happened?”

“We just…we talked and agreed it was for the best.”  It wasn’t a lie, he’d started with an apology before explaining everything that had happened, and Maeve was able to draw a conclusion from that.  They talked, she agreed he was doing the right thing even if things with you didn’t pan out, that he just had things to work out.  Spencer just…he wanted to give you time to rest before he brought it up, and he wanted some time for himself.

“That’s all it takes sometimes.”  You were soft and gentle, your voice just loud enough for the two of you to hear, and you placed a hand on his arm and promised, “If you wanna talk or just…sit and binge Dr. Who, I’m here.”

“I know,” Spencer resisted the urge to add a joke, things so easily became lighthearted and happy with you, and instead placed his hand on your own.

“Seriously, I’m going to be here for a _while_.  I doubt Hotch will let me go back to work for another two weeks, please come visit.”  You smiled as you tried to lighten the mood, your smile growing when you saw Spencer smile and chuckle in response.  That was better, you _hated_ seeing him upset…but when you thought his face would be the last thing you saw…it didn’t seem to matter there was nothing but panic and terror in his eyes as he begged you to hold on.  That dream you’d had as you…almost died…you vaguely remembered _some_ of your dreams but that one just clung to your soul since then.  It _all_ just…haunted you.

“I’ll be back after work tomorrow.”  Spencer stood to take his own leave before he got too tired to go home, kissing the top of your head and causing you to freeze, and quietly promised, “I’ll always come back.”

Your walls and guards were already weak against Spencer, but stunned like that and they all came crumbling down.  One look into your big brown eyes, like a stunned doe caught in headlights, and he was tempted to stay.  He wasn’t ignorant to what you desperately tried to hide, he knew there were cars and a façade hiding all the fear that never even hindered the endless amount of love in your heart.  He so wanted to stay, but it was better to leave.

You needed your rest.

 

****************

 

Your days off started to blend together after a while, but it wasn’t unusual for you to have a visitor.  Spencer was there practically every day – assuming there wasn’t a case – but the others would stop by as well.  Your spirits had been lifted a few days ago when your doctor told you that you could at least start working from the office in a few days, as it was better than _nothing._   It was a pretty calm night, just sitting around and catching up on Game of Thrones, when Spencer caught you _completely_ off guard.

“You know I still love you, right?”  He had to get it out before he lost his nerve again.  There was only so much time to settle this before you returned to work and time became far more scarce than it already was.  He watched as your stunned expression calmed and you paused the DVD, biting your lip before carefully replying.

“I gathered that…”

“And you never said you don’t…you just said it’s too risky.”

“My father was a…dangerous man, and I helped the people that arrested him.  I never know if someone’s after me or not…I can’t be the reason you get hurt I can’t…” you sighed as you tried to find the words, tried to find a way to explain as you looked down at your hands clenched in your lap, “If what happened to me ever happened to you…”

Spencer stood up as he ran his hands through his hair before turning back towards you with an irritated, borderline accusing, tone as he snapped, “You don’t think watching you go through that _broke_ me?  For over a _day_ I couldn’t _think_.  It was a _miracle_ I pulled my shit together long enough to figure out where you were because I was _desperate_.  The _second_ I saw you in that yard…I thought you were going to die in my arms and I regretted _every_ chance I didn’t take.”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” your voice started to crack as your teary eyes met Spencer’s own, his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his composure, and everything just came crashing down around you, “I wanted to keep you safe.  I don’t know how to give you the kind of relationship you deserve, I was raised to hide everything from everyone.  I have secrets, I manipulate people to survive, I _killed_ six men with my bare hands in _one day._   The only difference between me and a monster is – “

“Are you _kidding me?”_ Spencer was _furious_ , both at himself _and_ you.  This was all boiling down to his low self-esteem and your _far_ less than flattering self-image, and it was fucking _infuriating_.  So, instead of _calmly_ explaining how wrong you were, like he normally would, his temper got the best of him, “Do you even _know_ yourself?  You throw yourself between strangers and a gun without a second thought, you’re the most empathetic and sympathetic person on the _planet_ , you actually have the capacity to love _everyone_ on the damn planet, and you _continuously_ go well out of your way to take care of the people you love.  You are _dangerously_ selfless – that’s why I fell in love with you in the _first_ damn place – so just _tell me the damn truth.”_

“Fine!” you stood up yourself, completely ignoring the fact your neighbors on either side of your apartment could at least hear your muffled voices and were likely growing concerned, “You want the truth?  I love you, and I was too scared to risk losing you because I fucked up!”

Spencer closed the distance between the two of you and pulled you into a kiss that just left you breathless and dazed, you were clutching at his shoulders to keep yourself from falling over as much as you were in desperation to keep him close.  Your eyes were still closed and your mind still dazed as Spencer pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“If I could go back…I’d tell you the truth the first time…” you admitted quietly, slowly opening your eyes to look up at him, “Just to take a chance on this…us…”

“We have now, all we can do is take advantage of this.”


End file.
